Two Weeks in Heaven
by Dragonling743
Summary: All Canon, B&W, Pete called Helena to convince Myka to come home. "I'd rather two weeks in heaven than a lifetime of what-ifs." One Shot


**A/N:** Lotta feels. Angst warning: this may hurt a bit. This is for my honey, I hope it fits what you were looking for. Night On The Town chapters are still coming.

I'm sitting in some dingy bar, nursing my whiskey. The music is loud, and some people have started dancing to the pitchy woman's voice emanating from the jukebox. The white noise underneath the music buzzes annoyingly in my ears, building up the beginnings of a headache just behind my ears.

This has been my place, my refuge ever since I had told them. They didn't believe it, didn't want to hear the truth. Pete immediately jumped to the idea of using artifacts. As if they could help me. Claudia burst into tears and wouldn't speak to me now. Artie... He's closed himself off entirely. He doesn't want to lose another agent. Abigail was stunned, but she didn't really know me enough to do more than mourn. This damn cancer.

I downed another glass, and signaled for one more drink.

I let out a harsh chuckle, I used to worry about things like liver failure, I used to worry about keeping myself in tip top shape. The only reason I did it now was because it was how I coped. I had ran more than thirty miles in the last six days. Probably more that I didn't clock. Drinking, eating sugar, it didn't bother me anymore. Nothing about me had really changed but the knowledge.

I took another long sip of the harsh liquid, "Ignorance is bliss." I muttered. This is what I had been reduced to doing. Talking to myself, drinking my way into oblivion every night. They didn't let me go on missions anymore, medical leave or something like that. So here I sit, Myka Ophelia Bering, dying woman. Secret service, and the Warehouse had left me to wither, and bitterness was growing in it's place.

I couldn't work, I couldn't talk, I couldn't leave, I couldn't even die on my own terms.

"Myka Bering." The words were quiet, disapproving, unhappy. I froze, my eyes moving of their own accord to meet their pitch black counterparts. "Peter said you were acting in a manner unbecoming a proper agent of the Warehouse. I did not, however, expect this." My gaze drifted all over her, drinking her in faster than any whiskey, she is my Manna from heaven. My ambrosia.

She was wearing a vest, button down blouse, and dress slacks. Low-heeled loafers, and a loose scarf. Her long, lovely hands rested on her hips, slightly jilted in impatience. Waiting for a response, I realized. "Helena." I croaked in acknowledgement, my mind drawing a total blank as to what should happen next. It wasn't the alcohol, though I had had plenty, it was her. Walking in all over again, just so she can walk out, leave me alone to die.

Anger fizzled under my skin, looking at her again, I saw the pity, and disappointment in her features. She was judging me. Calling me silly and pathetic. Is it so damn terrible that I don't want to die? I jumped up from my chair, swaying slightly as I brushed past her. The warmth on my skin was an angry blush, not the touch of her skin. "Go back to Nate." I growled, stalking out of the bar.

She followed me of course. Helena wouldn't give up just because I told her so, she had something to say, and I was going to get an earful. "Myka! I came back because Pete said you were struggling with something! Is this what you meant by always friends? In my time it would have been considered an abominable affront."

"Then go back to your own damn time." I snarled, turning on her before she could continue the lecture. My mind skipped right passed the admission that Pete, all of them, had left her in the dark. "Go back to your parties, and your dances, and your old time manners, I don't want any of it! I want you to leave me the hell alone."

"Myka.." Her mouth was slightly ajar, eyes filling with liquid, hands limp at her sides. The only reason the woman before me did not crumple was the stiff backed Victorian training holding her up out of pure willpower. "What happened to you?" She asks in disbelief, the main feeling in her voice that of pain. I had hurt her again.

The sadness, and pain in her voice poked a hole in the building bubble of anger, sending it all floating up to disperse among the clouds. I sagged against my car hood, and rubbed my neck, "Just go home Helena."

I turned to get into the car, and her hand caught my shoulder. I didn't turn, she didn't make me, she whispered to my back, "Tell me what happened first... Please?" Of course she would plead, the one time I wouldn't tell her.

"I'm dying." I rested my head against the door, waiting for the panicked rampage of useless platitudes and questions. They always came. I was sick of it. Nothing came. I looked up at her in confusion, "Helena..?"

The blood had drained from her porcelain cheeks, her hands shook and she was staring at me with wide black eyes. "Myka." She whispered, her weak hands clenching on my cheeks, trapping me between her soft palms. Her ashen face held agonized eyes locked with mine. The utter horror I saw there squeezed my heart.

"Helena, calm down," I pulled her into a hug, her shuddering frame held tight to my slightly unsteady one.

Tears dripped down my neck, and she hugged me tightly, too tightly. I could feel her declaring silently that she would not let this happen. It was too late. I didn't have very long anyway. I didn't want her to focus on my death. I gritted my teeth as she sobbed against me. I knew why I drank myself into a stupor every night. I knew why I hated being in the BnB, why missions were no longer a possibility.

Fear. Fear that I would run to this woman, how she would react to my death. I didn't want to tell her about it, and they didn't want her to know. I turned my head and kissed her cheek, "Get in the car." I murmured, my voice rough from unshed tears, and too much emotion. I had broken too many rules already. Why not this one too?

She didn't budge, and I was forced to walk her to her own door, close her in and walk around again. Her hand touched the window between us, her eyes never leaving my face. She was savoring every second with me like it were precious. The last bottle of wine from the garden of Eden.

I started the car, and pulled out, heading in the opposite direction of the BnB. I looked down to see my hand gripped firmly between both of hers. We passed two hours in that fashion. Her eyes never left my face, and her hands remained tight around mine. It was slightly awkward for driving, but I couldn't bring myself to let her down, to pull my hand away. I had been avoiding the world because I didn't want to see this pain. Now this is my burden to carry.

We pulled up to my parent's cabin in Wyoming, Helena looking askance at me. The silence hadn't been broken in two hours, I wasn't going to break it now. I led her inside and kicked off my shoes before sitting down on the couch, pulling her down on top of me. At that point, keeping each other warm in the chilly log house, miles away from civilization, faced with my impending death, tears streamed down our cheeks. We clung, each one to the other, crying away the frustration, the pain, leaving only exhaustion in it's wake.

I woke up bleary eyed to Helena's dark gaze. "How long have you been up?" I croaked, quite aware of how our limbs have become tangled up.

"A few minutes.." She hesitated, "Myka, how long do you have?" I knew she didn't mean how long I would be here with her. She was asking how long I would live.

"The doctors gave me a month... I'm going downhill fast Helena." I sighed, I really didn't want to be telling her this. The look on her face was enough to put me off. She looked ready to devolve into tears again. "Helena, please, let's not." I was staring at the only person I had ever really loved, and there was no time left to dance around it. No time to chicken out, no time. "I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Her eyes softened, and she hugged me tightly, burying her face into my neck, simple tears trailing my neck. "Yes darling, it would be my honor, and pleasure. I love you too dearest Myka."

We spent every moment together. Our hands were connected, as if tied together by fate itself. We cooked for each other, trading off meals, laughed, talked. Not a word was spoken of my health or hers. Hiking through the hills, climbing trees, reading together for hours as the sun passed us by. Swimming in the lake, reading our favorites one to another. Each night we collapsed into bed, exhausted with the activities of the day. Tangled together, no idea where one ended and the other began, we cried ourselves to sleep, tears mingling.

One week after we fell asleep on the couch, I could feel my body start to drag. I was falling behind the vibrant woman before me. I fell, I stumbled, she was always there, but always she would lift me up with concealed tears. Pride demanded I hide it, but we both knew. I pulled her back into the car, and started to drive east. We swapped off constantly, my eyes falling shut of their own volition. I kept her hand in a death grip, sleeping or conscious, it did not matter. I wanted to be connected with her until the very end.

We came finally to the Keys, as far as car, or foot could take us. We ate something, I don't know, it was too hard to swallow. My plate was half full by the time Helena had finished. The agonized look in her eyes was quickly stifled. I knew she was trying to hide this until I was gone. Make it easy for me. I lifted her from the chair, and wrapped my arm around her waist. One of her hands clung to the back of my neck, the other clasped in mine right over my heart.

We danced, slowly spinning to the beat of my dying heart. My face was haggard, and i know I lost weight, my body was slowly betraying me, and I still didn't want it to end. When the tears became too much for her, Helena tugged me out of the restaurant, leaving some bills on the table in passing. We left for the beach, upon arriving, we found it far too crowded for this time. The night was encroaching, and every open space was covered in couples flaunting their time, their love. Every pair was a knife to my gut, tearing at my heart, bringing more pain than any cancer.

Wandering through the palms, a small bench presented itself. Here at the end of earth, leaving nothing but sky and sea, the sunset blending colors until both had faded into the deepest black. A black I would enter, leaving my love far behind. She clung to me, our lips finding each other in a gently embrace. The time for passion was passed. There was nothing left for us but this goodbye. With a soft cry, our lips were torn apart for the need of air.

I rested my forehead against hers, and spoke the first words of the evening, "Helena." She gasped softly, as if she had forgotten how to breath, "Promise me you will live." We had not spoken much the last few days, the tension and pain was palpable. Right now however, I needed to hear her voice, reassuring me, even if it was about all the wrong things. I wanted to hear that I would live, I wanted to know that I could have more than two weeks with this angel.

"Yes love, I promise." She sobbed, I felt the cost of those words with every breath ripping apart my lungs. She would not join me immediately. My Helena would live, without me, grow, change, love and then come back to me a better woman. If I could not live, I needed her to do it for me.

Hours passed us in our desperate embrace, only one thing could tear us apart. It came in the small hours, a slowing, I could feel myself withering, my life fading, and I pressed one more kiss to her lips. "I love you Helena."

Blackness set in over me, taking me to some place unknown. Lifting me from my flawed body into the black. The last thing to touch my soul were the muted words, "I love you Myka."


End file.
